


Cardinal Sins

by penny



Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: F/M, Hatesex, Incest, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-11
Updated: 2009-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francesco turned to face her. "We cannot afford to display any weakness to the Methuselah."</p><p>"Taking the time to assess a situation is hardly displaying weakness."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cardinal Sins

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Episode 20 of the anime.

The report that the Pope had been abducted by Methuselah came through encrypted channels directly to the Department of Inquisition. So, of course, by the time Caterina received a copy, Francesco had already called the cardinals to order to discuss the Vatican's response. And, of course, by the time she arrived, Francesco had swayed most participants over to his side -- firm refusal to negotiate, even if it would buy time for a rescue mission.

But he hadn't swayed a strong majority. Caterina caught Francesco's brief grimace when she was admitted to the chamber -- a quick flash of annoyance, one she could easily be accused of imagining, but Caterina had learned to read her brother over the years. She knew what every expression, every gesture, every sneer meant.

"Ah, Cardinal Sforza. How kind of you to join us."

She ignored Francesco's sarcasm. "My apologies. It is quite a trek from my office. I'm afraid it not only delayed my arrival, but also my summons." She smiled, and before Francesco could rise to the bait, continued, "Considering the reason for this meeting, I'm relieved you didn't wait. Time is of the essence."

Francesco's face tightened, but there was little he could do without losing face in front of their audience. "Yes," he managed.

"I have agents on Albion assessing the situation." Caterina strode towards her place at the table, taking note of who met her eyes and who looked away. Too many refused to meet her eye for her to emerge entirely victorious, but enough looked at her that she could -- God willing -- buy her men enough time to rescue Alessandro. She remained standing, facing Francesco squarely. "We should wait for their report before responding to the Methuselah."

"And how long do you propose we wait, Caterina? A day? An hour?" Francesco made one of his sweeping gestures, and Caterina could hear the snap of his robes from her position across the table from him. "We cannot afford either."

Well, at least he hadn't said a minute. Caterina kept her expression calm. "Thirty minutes."

Francesco placed both hands on the table and managed to loom even though the length of the table separated them. "You admit time is of the essence but still ask for us to delay making our response?"

"Tell me, _Francesco_, the agents you have in Albion? When do you expect their report?"

The room went still. Caterina cursed herself. She had misjudged Francesco, allowed herself to spring the trap he had set for her. She was still recovering from her blunder with the former Archbishop of Cologne, so she could not afford to be seen as stubborn and argumentative.

Cardinal Servini, seated to her left, cleared his throat. "I think," he said, refusing to look at Caterina or Francesco, "we should adjourn for thirty minutes to take the time to consider all of our options." He smiled faintly, still staring at the center of the table. "And to pray."

Relief made Caterina's knees shake, and she had difficulty hiding her shock. Cardinal Servini had never been one of her allies, and while he wasn't an ardent supporter of Francesco, he was far from neutral. For him to lend her his support now...

She met Francesco's cold gaze over the table. For Servini to take her side now, Francesco had to be pushing for war. She pursed her lips and willed her knees firm. The Vatican could not afford to go to war. She would not let it happen, especially if the spark was going to be Alessandro's death.

* * *

She followed Francesco into his office. "He is our brother," she said the moment he waved away his secretary.

He was halfway to his desk. He turned to face her. "We cannot afford to display any weakness to the Methuselah."

"Taking the time to assess a situation is hardly displaying weakness."

"Every delay is weakness."

"Surely you can see the benefit of waiting for our agents to report. We're not yet sure of the situation. A wrong step..." She blinked. He was closing the distance between them, and the look on his face...she had only seem him so angry once before. When father had explained Francesco could be many things, but never the Pope.

"You depend too much on diplomacy and goodwill."

"And you depend too much on fear and intimidation."

He smiled -- hard, thin, and unforgiving -- and stepped close. Too close. Caterina squared her shoulders and made him fight for each step, but Francesco was used to fighting. He was taller, stronger, more imposing, and though she kept her back straight and her chin high, she was still forced back against the door.

"Which one of our methods produces results?" He braced one hand on the door near her head, brushed her hair back from her cheek with his other hand.

Her mouth went dry, but she managed to keep her voice from trembling. "Mine." She tilted her head back so there was no mistaking the challenge in her eyes.

He trailed his hand down her neck, his fingers firm. "Not in here." His voice dropped to a dangerous purr. "My dear Caterina."

She shifted forward and pressed against him. "I am not a meek subordinate you can bully." She reached up and pulled his hand away from her neck.

"Not Alessandro, you mean."

She rose up on tiptoe so her face was even with his. "His Holiness." She had to steady herself with a hand on Francesco's chest and was mildly surprised when he didn't pull away. "We must show our respect at all times."

"And do you, dear sister?" He slid an arm around her, his fingers digging into the small of her back, and Caterina fought the rush of heat his touch sent through her. "In the privacy of your thoughts, is he always His Holiness?" His smile took on a cruel edge. "Or is he still the sniveling little boy who needs to be coddled and protected?"

"He is my -- our -- brother. And he is our Pope. I embrace both."

Francesco forced his leg between hers, and Caterina stopped fighting her heat, the wet pulse in her cunt. "Of course you do. You've always tried to protect him from me."

He shifted suddenly, forcing her back against the door again, and now his hands were on her hips, then her shoulders, pushing her robe down, then back at her neck again. And then he was pinning her to the door. Her hands were still on his chest, and she could feel his heart, the beat strong and fast and overpowering. She tightened her fingers in his shirt, and she couldn't tell if she was pulling him down towards her, or if she was just allowing him to dip his head down, to kiss her, teeth scraping at her lower lip.

But she couldn't deny she was kissing him back. She knew what he was asking with his actions -- who would protect her from him? -- and she let her actions answer as they unfastened buttons and zippers, scraping nails against skin. She did not need protection. She was more than capable of handling him. Perhaps a better question was who would protect him from her.

He was not gentle. Neither was she, but she was ready for him, at least. And when he pushed in, she swallowed her moan and bit down on his lip.

He ran his thumb over her pulse point. His breath was harsh, clipped, and Caterina found she was mirroring him. She grabbed his shoulders, arched up into him, hooked her legs around his hips. She would not let him take her. No, she made him match her. She pulled at his hair, clawed at his neck, marked him just as he marked her.

And she made him come before her.

He stayed too close even after withdrawing, a reminder that she was in his office, that she could only have the space he granted her. Caterina fought a bitter smile. Of course. Francesco never yielded.

He finished straightening his clothes before her. "The Vatican will not negotiate with the Methuselah. You'll find these thirty minutes have strengthened my position."

Of course. His agents in the Vatican. While she had been wasting her time trying to sway her brother, he had his secretary running between cardinals. How could she have missed the gesture? His plotting?

And how could she forget he hated Alessandro for being the legitimate son, the one eligible for the Papacy? She smoothed her hair and studied his face for any sign of regret or remorse. There was none, of course. Francesco was, as ever, resolute.

"We'll see, brother." She touched the hollow of her throat, which was still tender. Even if she failed to convince the others, there were other ways to save Alessandro.

Francesco's strength was also his weakness. What agents did he have in Albion? He'd have sent his best to protect the Pope, and his best...Caterina smiled. His best were Brother Petro and Sister Paula. She could use them.


End file.
